On Call, Not On Chuck

"A fuck buddy is a guy you probably dated once or twice, but it didn't really go anywhere, but the sex was so great, you sorta of keep him on call."

-Carrie Bradshaw

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My coworker told me this super Nicholas Sparks-y story about how he and his booty call fell in love, and how his booty call ended up being his soulmate. His booty call then died, and then made him his beneficiary, so he got all of this stuff when the fuck buddy died. It made me not want to date Rafael even more, and the thought of inheriting the mountains of clothing made me want to gag myself with a floral printed scarf. God, did Rafael even have anything worth inheriting? Maybe that crock pot?

It somehow became story time, as my coworkers told me stories of caution and gave me unsolicited advice, some of it nice, some of it being of the excessive nature. Multiple people told me that I needed a team of guys, and out of all the guys that I have slept with, there is only one that I would be willing to have between the sheets regularly...and I'm already sleeping with him!

Sure, Louis wasn't half bad, and of course Chuck was great too, but I couldn't sleep with either of them again! And the rest of the guys I slept with...gag me with a fucking spoon.

"So he woke you up in the middle of the night? Maybe he just didn't want you to think that he left in the middle of the night," Gwyneth said. She was a nice girl, and extremely kind.

"It was his place!"

"Then why did he wake you up?"

Everyone had the same reaction: they wanted to know why he woke me up, why he had no toilet paper, and what the actual fuck his roommate was cooking in a crockpot at 3 am. It was Friday, and I had secretly wanted to see Rafael again...but he was out of town for the weekend, back in the suburbs visiting his family. Even though I hadn't texted him since the excursion, I was definitely planning on seeing him again- not in a romantic context though, of course.

After getting home from work, I resisted the urge to text Rafael or Chuck about something frivolous. So, I pulled off the green maxi dress I was wearing, threw my hair over my shoulder in a sexual way, and I took a sexy picture to send to Rafael. Lace bra, banging boobs, tiny waist- all the things that I wanted to show off.

Just because I didn't want to date him, didn't mean that he should forget about me during his little trip. I sent it to him, and then proceeded to eat my kale salad and watch some Netflix.

I read out of my PCAT prep book, swiped through Tinder, I did everything to distract myself from the fact that he didn't say anything back. I mean, I wasn't expecting a sonnet about my body or a declaration of love, even a winky face would have satisfied me! Did he not think that it was bombtastic? Or maybe, possibly, he didn't want to be my booty call?

I pondered this crazy thought for about five seconds- Did Rafael Mancilla want something more than sex?

And then I started laughing uncontrollably. I mean yes, he did text me after the mess we had, he did ask me what I was up to, he has remembered me, he asked to cuddle and talk, and he did want to walk me downstairs before I was such a sassa-fras about it...but he's Rafael Mancilla.

Rafael Mancilla doesn't want anything besides sex, he practically thrives off of sex. For God's sake, he thought that a week and a half without sex constituted as "a long time," and he's slept with over twenty people! I am certain that at least once a week he goes out to pick up girls...actually, to be honest, he's so lazy that he probably just plucks them off of Tinder. He scoops up poor, unsuspecting women that think he's cute and charming, and makes them think that he's romantically interested in them, only to have an excuse as to why he can't date them....and then he fucks them! That is what he does.

And do you know how I know that?

Because that's what he did with me!

And that is why he's on call, and that is why I can keep him on call. Because there's no temptation to fall madly in love, or to scheme and make him my boyfriend. There is no temptation to cuddle with him all night, and to stay up late talking about our hopes and dreams and all that nonsense. No need to go get late night cupcakes, no need to wander the city at night, talking all night long. No need to make boring-ass benches into the most romantic place in Chicago, nor to binge watch Bob's Burgers together. Rafael will not be showing up at 3 am drunk, and Rafael and I will not be hosting Friendsgivings together. So there's no tears, no heartbreak, and no failed relationship and constantly being sucked in.

Because after Chuck, I didn't believe in true love and romance like I did before, I didn't have the hope and embarrassing bravery that I did before. I just had an ice-cold and jaded heart, and I was perfectly fine with that. And that was why having Rafael on call was the best arrangement that I could possibly think of, and what I really wanted from him.

The sexy text was sent, and I was truthfully a little excited for the next encounter.